One Dessert - Two Forks

My raspberry crop had a short season, mostly due to lack of experience.  My previous gardening adventures included taking care of the cactus, Mr. Scaggles.  He was thriving and began whispering ideas into my head of how I may have the elusive green thumb.  I was contemplating a companion plant for him when tragedy struck.  It was never clear if he jumped or was pushed out of the eighth story window, but the resulting splat on the sidewalk was final.  It was many years before I had the heart to welcome another plant.  The raspberry bush seemed equally inexperienced in gardening.  She sat in the greenhouse with an air of mystique which intrigued me enough to take her home.

Every morning I loved going out to see Miss Tery – a fitting name as she was labeled the "unknown berry" in the nursery.  One day she greeted me with the makings of a green fruit which looked remarkable like an unripe raspberry.  The berry ripened and I held off picking it for many days just so I could see Miss Tery waving this small red flag in our backyard.

The cravings for a raspberry dessert finally compelled me to pick the crop from Miss Tery.  She supplied enough for only one dessert which I graciously shared with Phin.  There was no recipe;  I just call it Raspberry Surprize and it was tasty!!!!

Sadly, after this initial crop, the thermometer blew its top and with the heat exhaustion Miss Tery was no longer up to producing berries.  I can’t say that I blame her, although next year I’m hoping if I’m more generous with the water we will have enough berries (as in plural) for two desserts.

Morning Melodies

It is not a secret that I like my eyes to be soundly shut until double digits can be seen on the left side of the colon.  This desire is often in conflict with my aspirations to be responsible, and so today began as most do in my world - with bizarre melodies.

Musical mornings have been part of my awakening as far back as I can remember (musical being defined in the broadest sense of the word).  My dad, quite the perky turkey in the early hours, would come into my room with a loud “cock-a-doodle-doo”.  His imitation of an operatic rooster became famous and delighted party guests whenever I had sleep-overs.

Motivation for the day was often found in his cheer of “You gotta get up, You gotta get up, You gotta get up in the morning”.  Of course this did not always work, and he would then borrow material from Uncle Remus.  Not expecting a reply, he would ask, “Is there one dead girl in here?”  “Ah,” he would mutter, “She must be dead.”  He then boisterously declared, “Dead people stick their foot up in the air and yell YAAAAAHOOOOOO!”  This yelp sent shivers down my spine and acted as an electrifying alarm clock.

In my teen years, the song of “Oh, my darling, Oh my darling” was sweetly sung off-key with made up words and followed by a morning chat.  I liked these one-sided conversations; it allowed me time to find nice endings to dreams and transition to reality.  The transition became slightly more depressing when my dad happened to watch Oklahoma, and revised his song repertoire. 

You would think that “Oh what a beautiful morning” would make a great addition to our morning routine.  Unfortunately this sprightly tune was not the one that peaked my dad’s interest.  Instead, the next few months he delighted in waking me to a moaning ballad, “Poor Jud is dead, Poor Jud is dead,” followed by a gleefully gloomy morning chat.

Although conventional alarm clocks have long ago replaced my father’s melodic attempts, today my transition to reality was definitely inspired by his methods.  A circle of clouds shaped like alligators surrounded my head and absconded with the lyrics of two well-known songs.  They replaced them with the following and sang them alternatingly:

"Waking up is never easy, I know but I have to go..." ABBA

"Morning is broken, like a first mourning..." CAT STEVENS

It took a shower, two cups of coffee, and emptying the dishwasher before I could get these songs out of my head and start the day with enthusiasm.